User blog comment:Bluestripe the Wild/Rise of the Mercenaries/@comment-3135907-20110610203400

Cloke has slipped into the taverns at Sampetra. A drunken searat totters by, accompanied by a flirtatious rat lass. He takes his chance and darts into a place called the Lucky Grog. Several old corsairs are playing a form of card game at a table whilst downing tankards of ale and the Tavern Special, a spicy, fruity grog titled Olde Shugar Spyne, an all-time favorite amongst the seadogs. Cloke sweeps up to the counter and motions to the bartender, a lazy fat stoat. "I need some information." The stoat is obviously frightened at the presence of the swirling cloaked beast. "W-Wot d'yer wanna know?"
 * "Oh, just this'n that. Have you seen any ships in bay?"
 * "Er, I can't quite amember, but I got a memery. A liddle fuzzy. Gold is wot I need, it usually fixes my memory better'n anythin else aside o' a good weap- Urgh!" Cloke's dagger is at the stoat's chest in a millisecond. The raspy rat draws the stoat over the counter, holding his throat in one paw and holding the dagger at his chest with the other. "How about if I just make you lose your memories altogether? And also maybe your life? What ships were at that jetty outside within the season? Speak you fool or die!"
 * "Glurhg gha bood ghss ahg urgh gurgh!" Cloke realizes he is strangling the stoat to death by accident. He relaxes his paw a little, but still holds it where the stoat is uncomfortable, but can actually speak. "I 'eard 'em! I 'eard 'em!"
 * "Heard who?"
 * "Er, the marten talkin' wid the Emperor. They're goin' to Akator."
 * "Ah, Akator!" Cloke smiles. "Thank you for your services." Exits the inn. Outside, slips through the inns and taverns and heads up the sand dune, where Gittrag & company are waiting. "Make ready the ship. We're sailing for Akator."
 * "Where's Ak-"
 * "Silence, fool. I know enough about these waters. You just follow my orders, and be ready. Hark, who is that?" he whispers. A searat's shadow can be seen at the edge of one of the inns for a moment, then it is gone. "Alright, we had better to leave now."

The searat's shadow happens to belong to a rat named Thrid. "A'right, Skrab. I 'eard 'em alright. They sed somethin' about "Akitter" or wotever. I've-"
 * "Sh'rup. We don' need ter know where they're goin', we just needs their vessel. 'Tis quite a fine wun, I'll say. 'Ey Harid, Slingoe, Sharky. Go prepare th' skiff. Me, Thrid, Tungry an' Ratrig'll git vittles. Might be a long chase."
 * "Long chase, Skrab?" asks Harid.
 * "Aye. We're takin' a ship."
 * "A ship?" asks Tungry, the dimwit of the crew.
 * "Aye, a ship, slopface. I ain't seen it yet, but if it's a ship, I'll take it. They seem all secret-like, so it's prob'ly not guarded by th' usual dock guard who guard all the other vessels wot cumms inter th' bay, I'm reckinnin'."
 * "Right. I'll go untie th' skiff, " says Harid, who shares co-leadership of the crew with Skrab.
 * "Right, yew do that, mate."

Under a bedsheet of stars, the ship commanded by Cloke pulls out of the east cove. Simultaneously, a skiff shoots out of the harbor under full canvas. The ship, tailed by its follower, the skiff, sail off into the night.